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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28165629">Anyone Can Cook (But Maybe Henry Shouldn't)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/schmulte/pseuds/schmulte'>schmulte</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Oneshot AUs [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Red White &amp; Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alex is a chef, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Henry is a baker, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Oneshot, Swearing, but it's cute i swear, cute husbands, firstprince, yes this is a Ratatoullie au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:55:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28165629</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/schmulte/pseuds/schmulte</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Alex is a chef who's worked his way up from the bottom to get to where he is today. Henry is a garbage boy who's recently been reluctantly promoted to sous-chef. When he's assigned to Alex, he learns how to cook, and more importantly, how to love.<br/>This is based on Collette and Linguini's relationship in Ratatouille but I promise there's no rats.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Oneshot AUs [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2248755</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>80</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Anyone Can Cook (But Maybe Henry Shouldn't)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Wow this got more positive reviews than I ever expected! Thank you so much for all your kind comments and the kudos, it really does mean a lot to me &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alex has always loved being in the kitchen. The smells, the sound of knives and boiling pots, the controlled chaos of it all has been something he's been drawn to since he was a little kid. When he was younger, he'd help his mom with dinner, chopping vegetables or cracking eggs. It became his happy place. No matter how stressed or angry or upset he was, the perfect release was always making something to eat. He found himself in the kitchen more often than not during his parent's divorce.</p><p>He spent his childhood watching his mom rise through the ranks. She started out as a server in an old-fashioned diner, and worked her way up step by step until she owned the place. Now she's a world renowned restauranteur- the diner was featured on <em>Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives</em>, and she now owns two Michelin Star restaurants. </p><p>Alex had wanted to follow in his mother's footsteps, rise up as she did, without any help from his mother. He didn't want there to be any doubts about how he got his positions. So he started as a dishwasher when he was 16, worked his way through culinary school without so much as a penny from his parents, and went through the same interview process as everyone else before becoming head chef at his mother's French bistro. </p><p>It had been difficult, doing things the hard way. Alex had to face a lot of obstacles because of his race, especially in the fine dining world. He knew food critics were going in with a bias every time- a half Mexican chef at a French bistro, it was practically laughable to them. So Alex had to make sure he did his best every single time, let the food be the center of attention, not him. He worked hard, put his blood sweat and tears into his food to get where he is now. </p><p>And he thinks he might have to throw that all away now, because if his new sous-chef screws up one more time, he's going to lock him in the walk-in freezer and throw away the key.</p><p>It's embarrassing, really, to be paired with this sorry excuse of a person. Alex is sure he and Henry would be friends in another life, if he hadn't been promoted and assigned to Alex of all people. He can see them getting along quite well, if Henry had just stayed out of his way. </p><p>Alex thinks the thing he hates the most about Henry is not his horrible cooking, or his stupid perfect hair, or his inhuman inability to sweat. He hates Henry because he's a walking example of everything he despises. </p><p>Henry had started as a cleaner, a garbage boy. He'd come in with his ridiculously charming smile and sweep up, or clean out the fridge, or do the laundry. He was good at his job- quick and quiet, and though we was tall and broad, he never got in the way. </p><p>Then out of the blue, Zahra got a call, and Henry was promoted to sous-chef. Apparently his father was some kind of a big deal, and being a cleaner was suddenly beneath him. No, he had a family reputation to uphold, so his daddy had made a call and that was that. No working his way up, no adversity to face. Just a shiny new apron and a boost on his resume. It made Alex want to throw up. </p><p>There was no way to persuade his mom against it- Zahra was the manager, and therefore all staff decisions were up to her. And Zahra wouldn't tell Alex anything. Sometimes he thinks she assigned Henry to him as some kind of punishment for his insubordination. He wouldn't put it past her. </p><p>So Henry became Alex's sous-chef. And somehow the smooth grace he moved with when he was a cleaner had disappeared, and Henry became a clunky, clumsy mess. Tonight, during the Friday night rush, he has managed to burn butter instead of browning it, misplaced his knives twice, and garnished a dish with cilantro instead of thyme. </p><p>Which brings us to Alex's serious thoughts about giving up his career for punching Henry's stupid beautiful face. There's lots of pros and cons, so he does what he always does. He makes a list.</p><p>Reasons Why Alex Should Not Punch Henry</p><p>1. He'd get fired</p><p>2. He'd probably get blackballed</p><p>3. He could go to jail</p><p>Reasons Why Alex Should Punch Henry</p><p>1. He'd get to punch Henry</p><p>In this case, the cons outweigh the pros, and Alex is forced to spend yet another night as Henry's babysitter. Right now he's struggling to do the most basic tasks. The poor loaf of French bread he's trying to cut looks like it's been through a woodchipper. Alex sighs. He doesn't have time for this right now, so he just turns his head towards his sous-chef and snaps. </p><p>"Henry."</p><p>Henry looks up at him with those blue puppy-dog eyes, and Alex almost feels sorry for him. It's clear Henry doesn't want to be doing what he's doing either. Still, if he had worked his way up like he was supposed to, they wouldn't be having this problem.</p><p>"Yes, chef?" he says in that annoyingly posh English accent.</p><p>"Go take a break."</p><p>Henry frowns. Alex has the sudden urge to smooth out the crease it makes on his forehead, and he wonders where the fuck that thought came from. </p><p>"It's the middle of the rush, chef." </p><p>"You look like you're going to pass out. Take ten minutes, drink some water, and come back ready to work. Okay?"</p><p>Henry nods. "Yes, chef."</p><p>"For Christ's sake, Henry, we're the same age. Just call me Alex." </p><p>"But--"</p><p>"Go. Don't come back until your head is screwed back on straight."</p><p>Henry opens his mouth, looks like he's about to something, then decides against it. He hurries outside, knocking over at least three pots as he does so. Alex sighs and shakes his head. He's worked too hard to have his entire reputation ruined by an idiot like Henry. He spends way too long correcting his mistakes, yells out orders to the other chefs. His head is starting to ache from scowling, and he get a little relief when June comes in from the dining room. She made her own way, too, and decided against the culinary business, but she still waitresses sometimes to help out when they're really busy. She dusts off her crisp uniform and approaches Alex's station, arms folded an eyebrow raised. </p><p>"What's got your panties in a twist?" she asks. No hello, no how are you. Straight to the point, how June prefers things. </p><p>"I do <em>not</em> have my panties in a twist," Alex groans. "I've just been dealing with this pain in the ass all night."</p><p>"Henry?"</p><p>"Mhm." </p><p>"You should cut him some slack," June suggests, and Alex thinks she's finally gone insane. She raises her hands in front of her, as if faced with a rabid animal. "He's a sweet guy."</p><p>Alex scoffs. "Yeah, well, that sweet guy is putting my career at risk with his mistakes."</p><p>"Alex." He doesn't turn to face her. He knows the look she's giving him right now, and he doesn't want to see it. </p><p>"I need to get back to work."</p><p>"Alex--"</p><p>Henry comes back then, interrupting their one-sided conversation. He and June make polite greetings before she has to go back to the dining room. Alex stays quiet for the rest of the evening, only speaking to give absolutely necessary orders. Henry is quiet, too, though that's not unusual. Still, Alex can tell something is off, and he doesn't understand why it bothers him so much. He doesn't care if Henry is happy, as long as he does his job. Right?</p><p>They're slammed, as usual, but they manage to pull off a successful dinner service by the skin of their nose, no thanks to Henry. Alex stays late, as usual, and says goodbye to the other chefs as they walk out the door. Nora flashes him a wink on her way out, and Zarha just gives him her usual warning glance. Much to Alex's dismay, Henry looks like he's staying late, too. He hasn't taken off his apron yet, and he's been standing stock still, wringing his hat in his hands nervously for a few minutes now. Something's up. </p><p>"You should go home, Henry," Alex says as nicely as he can. "It's been a long night, get some sleep."</p><p>"Can I ask you something?" Henry blurts out. Alex frowns, but he sets down the spoon he was holding and turns to fully face Henry. He looks different, somehow. Not exactly nervous. Maybe something a little less than angry. Alex is just glad to see Henry has normal human emotions. </p><p>"Uh. Sure, go ahead."</p><p>"Why do you hate me?"</p><p>Alex is taken aback. What kind of person just comes out and asks that? And more than that, why does Alex suddenly feel bad? He <em>does</em> hate Henry. This is what hate feels like. Still, he feels the need to lie, to spare Henry's feelings. </p><p>"I-" he clears his throat. "I don't hate you, Henry." </p><p>"Yes, you do. I'm not stupid, you know, I can tell when someone doesn't like me. I get that I'm a shite cook, but you hated me from the moment I started as your sous-chef."</p><p>Alex sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He's got a full-blown migraine now. He should really start wearing his glasses to work. </p><p>"Look, Henry. I don't hate you because you're a bad cook, ok?" He steps forward a little with a sudden gust of confidence. He stares right at Henry, up in his space, and he curses those few inches he has on him. "What I <em>hate </em>is that you waltz in here with your stupid hair and your stupid accent and think that it's fair that you get a promotion just because your daddy's someone important." He takes a deep breath, and Henry is glaring back at him now, and he can't stop now.</p><p>"I could have done the same thing- one call from my mom and I'd be a chef anywhere I wanted, no questions asked. But I didn't want that. I wanted to <em>earn</em> my position. So I worked. And scraped. And saved every penny I had to go to culinary school. I worked in every shithole restaurant in DC, making minimum wage, until I earned my place. So let me ask you something, Henry." He stepped closer, mere inches away from Henry's face now. He could feel the heat radiating off him. "What have you done to earn your place?"</p><p>Something changes in Henry's eyes. His gaze is still intense, but there's something more behind it. Alex recognizes it well. Shame. </p><p>"Nothing," Henry says quietly. "I've done nothing to earn this, any of this. I didn't deserve the promotion."</p><p>Alex does not back down. "Then why did you take it?"</p><p>"I didn't have a choice."</p><p>"Bullshit."</p><p>It's Henry's turn to sigh, and he takes a step back. Alex finds himself missing his body heat. He wants to kick himself. </p><p>"It's complicated. Let's get a drink, and I'll explain everything."</p><p>Alex narrows his eyes, trying to gauge what kind of game Henry is playing. When his expression doesn't change, he nods, takes off his apron and grabs his coat.</p><p>"Fine," Alex says. "but you're paying." </p><p>Henry shrugs and follows him out. "Fair enough."</p><p>Outside, when he gets over to his bike, Alex notices Henry isn't behind him anymore. He's standing still, eyes wide a little behind him. </p><p>"I'm not getting on that," he says. Alex rolls his eyes and holds his helmet out to Henry. </p><p>"It's perfectly safe."</p><p>"It's certainly not."</p><p>Alex sighs. "Look, I'll go slow, okay? Just put on the helmet, hold on tight, and you'll be fine."</p><p>Alex swears he can see Henry blushing, and he smirks at the little victory. It feels good, to see his cheeks turn red and know it's because of him. That's totally a hate thing, he thinks. </p><p>He swings his leg over the bike and waits for Henry to get the helmet on. His hands are shaking, but he eventually gets it, and sits down behind Alex. He tentatively wraps his arms tight around Alex's waist, and Alex's stomach flutters. For some reason, Henry's arms around him feels...comfortable. Natural. He shakes his head. What the fuck is wrong with him?</p><p>Not wanting to focus on Henry any longer, he starts the bike and speeds off. Henry's arms tighten around his middle and he can hear him shouting "fuck fuck fuck" over the engine when they turn a corner. Alex gives a smug little smile and doesn't slow down until they're at the bar. Henry lingers a moment before finally letting go, and Alex almost whines at the loss of contact. He needs to get his shit together, fast. </p><p>"<em>That</em>," Henry says shakily as he climbs off the bike. "was slow?"</p><p>"Get used to it, sweetheart." Alex winks. Henry's face goes red again, and this time, Alex can feel himself start to blush, too. He clears his throat and quickly pushes him inside. They find a quiet booth at the back, and Alex orders a beer. Henry gets an old fashioned, because of course that's his drink of choice, the prick.</p><p>"So," Alex says after draining his glass, much to Henry's horror. "Spill."</p><p>Henry clears his throat, straightens a little bit in his seat. He takes a deep breath. </p><p>"I didn't know I was going to get the promotion. I swear, I never asked for it. My grandmother, you see, she owns this really posh restaurant in London. It's a big deal, she's met the Queen and everything. My dad was her head chef, and he was really good. When he died, she wanted me to take over for him. I thought she'd ask my brother, but he's got a job working for Gordon Ramsay already, so it was left to me. I don't want to be a chef, but I didn't really have a choice, so I told her I'd do it, but I wanted to do it my way.</p><p>I wanted to work my way up, honestly. I'd never worked a day in my life before then. Everything I have has been handed to me, and I'm not proud of it. I just wanted to earn something for once. And I knew your mother had done the same, so I talked to her and explained the situation, and she was kind enough to give me a job as a cleaner. But, well, my grandmother didn't like how I was doing things, so she called Zarha."</p><p>Alex takes a moment to let it all sink in. Henry seemed honest enough. Alex supposes he has no reason to lie, but there's still so many questions left unanswered. Henry's expression is neutral again, and he sips his drink calmly. Alex leans in a little, narrows his eyes. </p><p>"If you don't want to be a chef, why do it?"</p><p>Henry grimaces a little. "I don't really have a choice. It's...complicated. Family stuff."</p><p>"What do you want to be?"</p><p>Henry looks at him like he's never been asked this question before in his life. </p><p>"Excuse me?"</p><p>"If you don't want to be a chef, what <em>do</em> you want to be?"</p><p>"It doesn't matter." </p><p>"Henry," Alex drops his wall a little bit, to show he's sincere. "it does matter. What you want matters."</p><p>Henry's red again, this time the flush creeping up his neck. He clears his throat again and takes another sip of his drink.</p><p>"I've always been a shite cook. But I'm a really good baker. Before my dad died, I was going to be a pastry chef."</p><p>Alex leans back a little in his seat. It's cute, the idea of a big, imposing man like Henry making delicate pastries all day. Still, he can see it. It fits with Henry's personality, his demeanor. Alex gets a thought and smiles. He's always liked a challenge, and Henry might be the biggest one he's faced yet.</p><p>"Tell you what. I'm going to help you." Henry just raises an eyebrow over his drink. "I'm gonna make you the best damn chef the world has ever seen."</p><p>Henry's eyes widen. "You'd do that? For me?"</p><p>"Sure," He folds his arms behind his head in the booth with a mischievous grin. "but it won't be easy. I'm a tough teacher." He watches Henry's Adams apple bob as he gulps and suppresses a shiver. </p><p>"I can handle it."</p><p>"Are you sure?"</p><p>Henry nods and downs the rest of his drink. "When do we start?"</p><p>***</p><p>Alex has him come in at dawn the next morning. It's still a little dark outside, when he finally arrives, and he has bags under his bloodshot eyes. He's holding onto a thermos like a lifeline. Alex grins and throws an apron at him. </p><p>"Go wash up."</p><p>Henry blinks himself awake and nods with determination. "Yes, chef."</p><p>After making sure Henry washes his hands correctly and has his apron on right, Alex has him start a simple soup, to see exactly what he's working with. He lets Henry manage on his own for a while before coming over to his station. He frowns at the state of things- all the vegetables are chopped at different sizes, and he's going so slowly it physically hurts. </p><p>"What are you doing?"</p><p>Henry jumps a little, and Alex has to bite his lip so he doesn't laugh. </p><p>"Cutting vegetables," he replies, calmly. Alex rolls his eyes.</p><p>"You're wasting energy and time," he pulls a tray over and takes the knife right out of his hands. "when there's a rush and you have fifty different orders at once that all have different cooking times, you can't afford to waste time. Every second counts." He demonstrates a faster, efficient cut, and has Henry practice a few times. He starts to get the hang of it, eventually, and Alex lets his eyes rove around the area. His station is a mess, pots and pans stacked up on top of each other, stains coating everything. He moves everything out of the way and looks pointedly at Henry.</p><p>"Keep your station clean. A messy station slows orders down. Keep your station clear and clean, or I'll kill you."</p><p>Henry nods and gives a meek "yes, chef." They practice for maybe hours, stopping every time Alex sees something wrong.</p><p>"Your sleeves look like you threw up on them. Keep your arms in, like this. Cooks move fast- sharp knives, hot metals. Keeping your arms in minimizes cuts and burns and keeps your sleeves clean. You should have a messy apron, but clean sleeves."</p><p>"How do you tell how good bread is without tasting it? Not the smell, not the look, but the sound. Listen to the crackle."</p><p>"The only way to get the best produce is to get the first pick of the day. And the only way to get the first pick is to grow it yourself or bribe the grower."</p><p>"People think fine cuisine is snooty, so chefs also have to be snooty, but that's not true. Nora ran away from home at twelve and got hired by circus people as an acrobat, and then she got fired for messing around with the ringmaster's daughter. Zarha's done time, but no one knows what for. She changes the story every time. She says she's defrauded a major corporation, robbed the second largest bank in France with only a ballpoint pen, she created a hole over the ozone in Antartica. Personally my favorite is that she killed a man with only her thumb. Don't ever play cards with Cash- he's been banned from Las Vegas and Monte Carlo. I think Amy's secretly in the mafia, but she won't say. The point is, anyone can cook."</p><p>***</p><p>By the time they're done, they're both completely exhausted. Alex and Henry sit on the floor, long after the restaurant's closed, and just give themselves time to breathe. Alex offers Henry a beer, and he gladly takes it. He has that fluttery feeling back in his stomach, and he's not sure why, but he think Henry looks beautiful right now. He looks happier, too. </p><p>"You did a good job today," Alex says. "Really. I only wanted to kill you once, that's some kind of record."</p><p>Henry laughs, and god, it's music to Alex's ears. </p><p>"I couldn't have done it without your help. You're a good teacher, Alex."</p><p>It's the first time Henry's used his name, and Alex thinks he might actually die. It sounds so wonderful rolling off his tongue. He tries to laugh it off, but he thinks Henry can tell he's faking.</p><p>"Yeah, well. You just owe me some of your baking."</p><p>Henry's looking at him with those puppy dog eyes again, and he can't handle it right now. Not when he's spent a whole day laughing and actually getting along with Henry. Not now, when the light of the walk-in is lighting up behind Henry like a halo, and his cheeks are just barely pink from the hard work. Henry takes a pause, then a breath. </p><p>"Alex, I--"</p><p>Alex can't take it anymore. Without even thinking, he grabs the front of Henry's chef jacket and pulls him into a searing kiss. Henry hesitates, at first, but then he's kissing Alex back and putting his hands on Alex's hips and it is <em>glorious</em>. Kissing Henry feels like the most natural thing in the world, and Alex wonders why they haven't been doing this all along. Something clicks, in the back of his mind, connects all the odd things he's been feeling to this moment. </p><p>He pushes his hands through Henry's too perfect hair, and Henry moans into his mouth. Alex grins in satisfaction, finds the hair at the nape of his neck and tugs. Henry's grip on his hips tightens, and Alex will definitely have a bruise tomorrow. He can't find the strength to care, though, not when Henry's lips move down to his jaw. </p><p>***</p><p>They find themselves, later, in Henry's bed. His apartment is ridiculously fancy, and Alex teased him mercilessly for it before Henry found a way to shut him up. His room is nice, though- warm and lived-in, with books stacked high along the walls and dirty aprons in the laundry hamper. Alex's head is on Henry's chest, listening to his heartbeat while he traces shapes along pale skin. Henry is warm beneath him, and his hand runs mindlessly along Alex's side. </p><p>"What would happen?" Alex asks, out of nowhere. "If you didn't take over the restaurant. What would happen?"</p><p>He can feel Henry sigh beneath him. "I'd be cut off, I suppose. I don't care about their money, I don't want it. I inherited enough from my dad to get on. But I'd probably never see my family again. Phillip, I don't really care, but my sister and my mum and my niece and nephew...I don't think I could handle that."</p><p>"We'll figure something out."</p><p>Henry presses a kiss to the top of his head. </p><p>"Don't worry about it. I'll be alright."</p><p>Alex doesn't push it. He's too content right now to start a fight. </p><p>They sleep for a while, and in the morning Henry bakes fresh muffins. Alex thinks he could marry them, they're so good, and he insists that he bake something for his mom. Henry is modest, as always, but he complies, and receives the same rave reviews from June, Leo, and his mom. Eventually, he starts bringing sweets in to work, and then Henry's baking is the only thing anyone can talk about. Alex can see it makes Henry happy, but there's still a bit of sadness behind his eyes. Alex tries to help- soothes him with words and kisses and touches until they forget about it for a bit. But it always comes back. </p><p>Henry has been doing much better at work, and he and Alex actually make a pretty great team. It's not long before Henry is offered a promotion to chef. Alex couldn't be prouder of him, but he knows it's not what Henry wants. </p><p>The idea strikes him when he's in bed with Henry. He doesn't think he's slept in his own apartment for weeks now, and he doesn't sleep well without Henry there anyway. He likes the cozy atmosphere of Henry's room, and likes Henry even more. Henry is lying on his stomach, head resting on his arms, and Alex is tracing shapes into his back and hums. Then, he gets the idea.</p><p>"Hen?"</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"Has your grandmother ever tried your baking?"</p><p>Henry sighs. "Alex, I really don't want to talk about this right now."</p><p>"Just answer the question and I'll drop it forever, I promise."</p><p>"...no. She hasn't."</p><p>Alex smiles. He has a plan.</p><p>***</p><p>It took a lot of convincing, coordination with Bea, and some little white lies, but the day is finally here. Alex is practically bursting with nervous energy, and he gets ready for work with a vigor he hasn't had in months. Henry notices and laughs, watching him jump from foot to foot.</p><p>"How much coffee have you had today?"</p><p>"Only a cup!" Alex protests. Henry doesn't look convinced. "I promise! I'm just...really excited for tonight's dinner service, that's all."</p><p>Henry takes a step forward, eyebrow raised.</p><p>"What are you planning, Diaz?"</p><p>He leans up and presses a quick kiss to Henry's lips. "I'm innocent, I swear."</p><p>"Right."</p><p>"Don't give me that look. Come on, we'll be late."</p><p>***</p><p>Alex finds it hard to keep the secret from Henry at work. He keeps excusing himself to go to the bathroom, when in reality it's just to text Bea and make sure everything is going according to plan. Henry is starting to catch on- not to exactly what's happening of course, but he knows Alex is up to something. </p><p>Everything comes to a head at seven. Bea texts Alex that they're in position, and he feels his palms start to sweat. It's a risky plan, for sure. Henry might never talk to him again if it goes poorly. Even if it goes well, Alex still went behind his back for months. He tells himself there's nothing else to be done, and takes a deep breath. Right on cue, June walks in from the dining room and goes straight to Henry.</p><p>"Henry? There's a guest who'd like to give her compliments to the chef."</p><p>He looks to Alex for help, eyes desperate, but he just gives him a kiss on the cheek and tells him to get his cute butt out there. He really, really hopes this works. June comes back in again after she makes sure Henry is at the right table. She wasn't too keen on going behind his back either, but she went along because Alex begged her too. </p><p>"So?" Alex asks, impatient. "How did it look, when he saw her?"</p><p>June bites her lip. "Well...he didn't exactly look happy. His mom and sister are nice enough, but his grandmother is a piece of work."</p><p>"Shit, here he comes."</p><p>June rushes away, to not look suspicious. Henry doesn't look great, and Alex's heart sinks. He's pale, sweaty. His eyes have a vacant look in them. His fists are balled up at his sides. </p><p>"Everything okay, babe?" Alex ventures to ask. Henry swallows and speaks in a low voice. </p><p>"My grandmother is here."</p><p>"Oh," Alex tries his hardest to look surprised. "that's nice of her to visit."</p><p>"Alex," Henry is looking him right in the eyes, and Alex can see they're wet and angry. "I know you had something to do with this."</p><p>Alex doesn't try to deny it. He's just trying to help. He thinks maybe if his grandmother could see that Henry isn't happy, that he's not meant to be a chef, if she tastes his baking, maybe she'll change her mind. He tells Henry as much. </p><p>"I can't believe this," the tears are threatening to spill over now. "I can't believe you went behind my back like this. You <em>know</em> how I feel about her, you know I don't have a choice."</p><p>"You always have a choice, Henry."</p><p>"No, I don't! Why can't you understand that?!" Alex has to take a step back. He's never heard Henry yell like this, ever. He's glad the kitchen is too loud for anyone else to notice. Henry takes a couple deep breaths and runs a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. I didn't meant to yell, I just...how could you do this, Alex? I lo-I trusted you. I told you to leave it alone."</p><p>"Baby," Alex gently wipes Henry's tears away with his thumbs and holds his face in his hands. "I'm sorry I went behind your back. I understand that you're angry with me, and if-if you don't want to be with me anymore after this, that's fine." He swallows. "But I think you should at least try."</p><p>Henry melts a little, leans in to Alex's touch. </p><p>"You're insane, you know that?"</p><p>"I've been told, yes." Alex cracks a small smile, and Henry straightens up and just out his jaw. </p><p>"Okay. What do we do?"</p><p>***</p><p>The dinner service goes off without a hitch. Bea and Catherine are raving about the food, and Henry's grandmother looks at least mildly impressed. Alex helps Henry get every last bit ready before they go out to the dining room. It's empty, thankfully, except for the table of women in the center. Henry's grandmother's eyes stare right into Alex's soul, and Henry gives his hand a reassuring squeeze as they approach. Henry looks more confident now, at least. More determined.</p><p>"Mum, Bea, grandmother, this is Alex."</p><p>Henry's grandmother gives him a quick once-over and tuts. Bea smiles wide at him. </p><p>"We've heard so much about you, it's so nice to finally meet you."</p><p>Alex blushes, and Henry clears his throat. </p><p>"Grandmother," he begins. "did you enjoy your meal?"</p><p>"A little contemporary, for my taste," she replies, and her voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard. "but mildly impressive."</p><p>Alex supposes that's as close to a compliment they're going to get. Henry squeezes his hand again.</p><p>"Good. There's one more course tonight, I'd like you to try it."</p><p>She nods slightly, and Alex gives the signal. June comes out, holding three plates, and sets them down in front of the women. Henry's grandmother scowls at it, but his mother lights up.</p><p>"Mince pies! We used to make these every Christmas when I was a girl, do you remember, mum?"</p><p>"Yes, Catherine, I remember."</p><p>"Didn't you make these with your mother too, gran?" Bea chimes in. Henry's grandmother has a strange expression on her face. Alex doesn't know what emotion to place it with.</p><p>"Yes. It was a family tradition- my great-grandmother taught my grandmother, who taught my mother, who taught me, and then I taught your mother."</p><p>"I wonder why we stopped?" Catherine offers. Henry's grandmother presses her lips into a thin line.</p><p>"Go ahead and try one, grandmother." Henry says. He, Alex, June, and Bea watch with baited breath as she slowly brings the mince pie to her lips. Her expression twists when she takes a bite. Something shifts, and she's silent for a long time. When she finally looks up, Alex can see tears in her eyes. He holds his breath. </p><p>"What do you think?" Henry says it in a low voice, not wanting to disturb the quiet peace. </p><p>"It's...who made these?" Henry swallows. </p><p>"I did."</p><p>"Well," she straightens up. "It's good to see you rounding out your talents. A head chef should have strengths in multiple areas."</p><p>"Actually...I'm a horrid cook."</p><p>She raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean? Our dinner was perfectly fine."</p><p>Henry takes a deep breath, steels himself. </p><p>"I'm not the one that made it." His grandmother narrows her eyes.</p><p>"Then who did?"</p><p>Alex raises his hand, grinning. "That would be me."</p><p>For a second, he almost thinks he has her flustered. She needed a moment, but then she's back to her cold, calculating self, and she turns her eyes on Henry. Alex can feel the goosebumps rising on his skin.</p><p>"Henry," she says. "let's talk in private, shall we?"</p><p>Alex wants to protest, but Henry reassures him he'll be alright, and gives him a kiss on the cheek before leaving. All Alex can do is wait, pacing up and down the dining room while Bea tries to calm him down. He thinks he's worn the soles out of his shoes. </p><p>Henry doesn't come back for a long time. When he does, his expression is neutral. He hugs his sister and his mother, asks them to brunch before their flight the next morning. Then he and Alex are alone. Henry's expression changes, and Alex sighs with relief. It's not one of anger, or regret- it's gratitude. The familiar adoration Alex is familiar with. The signature Henry smile. </p><p>"So?" Alex asks. He can't help it, he's too nervous for any more suspense. </p><p>"Well, she still wants me to take over, eventually..." Alex's heart drops into his stomach. Fuck. </p><p>"Oh." It didn't work. How did it not work? He saw her expression, the way she looked after trying the mince pie. Henry looks happy. Did she trick him somehow? Smuggle him a potion?</p><p>"But," Henry begins, and Alex's heart goes back to its rightful place. "not as the head chef. I'll be watching over the restaurant as the head pastry chef."</p><p>A flood of relief washes over Alex, and without thinking he's throwing himself at Henry, arms around his neck and face buried in his shoulder. Henry laughs, a heart, genuine laugh, and wraps his arms around Alex's waist. Alex peppers kisses to his chin, cheek, collarbone, anywhere he can reach.</p><p>"I'm so proud of you, baby." </p><p>Henry pulls away a little so he can look at Alex, and laughs at the pout he gets.</p><p>"There's more."</p><p>"Yeah?" Alex is so happy he doesn't care. The way Henry is looking at him is making his head light. Henry could say anything right now and Alex would still be happy.</p><p>"Well, since I'm going to be head of the pastries, she still needs a head chef."</p><p>"Oh, is she going to ask Phillip, then? I thought he had that job with Gordon Ramsay."</p><p>"He does, but it doesn't matter," Henry's face is almost split in half with a smile. "she wants you, Alex."</p><p>For possibly the first time in his life, Alex Claremont-Diaz is entirely speechless. This is the absolute last thing he had expected. If the plan went perfectly, the most he had hoped for was for Henry to not be disowned. This is more than he's ever dreamed of. But the offer isn't even the most important thing. </p><p>"You-you want me to go to London with you?" He just realizes he's been crying this whole time. </p><p>"I do."</p><p>Alex kisses him, and it's wet and sloppy but he doesn't care. Henry's arms are around him and he's crying too, and all Alex can do is kiss him. His inhibitions are completely gone, and he finds himself whispering "I love you" between kisses, and they've never said that to each other before but he doesn't <em>care</em>, because Henry is saying it back. </p><p>***</p><p>"Hey, hey! Hands off my station."</p><p>Alex laughs and licks the whipped cream he stole off his index finger. Henry isn't actually angry, just giving him that bemused look reserved especially for Alex. His sleeves are rolled up and his apron is covered in apron. He's wearing the silicone ring Alex got him after he accidentally baked his wedding ring into a cupcake. His cheeks are flushed pink and his hair is pushed back from his forehead. Alex doesn't think he's ever looked more handsome.</p><p>"What did I tell you?" Alex teases. "Keep your station clear, and I won't steal your leftovers."</p><p>Henry rolls his eyes, but there's a smile behind it. He puts his hands on his hips. </p><p>"Well, I suppose that's better than killing me."</p><p>"That could still be arranged."</p><p>Alex takes a dollop of whipped cream and places it right on the tip of Henry's beautiful nose. He laughs at the scrunched-up face he makes, and is about to lick it off when Shaan comes in from the dining room. </p><p>"Is it time already?" Henry asks, wiping his hands on his apron. Shaan only nods- their publicist is a man of few words.</p><p>Alex grins. "You ready for this, Wales?"</p><p>Henry takes Alex's hand and kisses it.</p><p>"Ready as I'll ever be."</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor to Take Over The Royal with Husband Alex Claremont-Diaz</strong>
</p><p>
  <em>Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, son of world-renowned chef Arthur Fox and grandson of </em>
</p><p>
  <em>restauranteur Mary Mountchristen-Windsor is set to take over as head pastry chef of his family's </em>
</p><p>
  <em>London restaurant, The Royal. The restaurant has been the in the Mountchristen-Windsor family </em>
</p><p>
  <em>since its opening in 1922, and has been the pinnacle of London fine dining ever since.  The Royal</em>
</p><p>
  <em>will be headed by Fox and his husband Alex Claremont-Diaz, who will be acting as head chef</em>
</p><p>
  <em>following the death of Arthur Fox. I've joined the couple in the newly renovated kitchen. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Fox's apron is covered in a light dusting of flour, and whipped cream dots the tip of his nose.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He and Claremont-Diaz are holding hands, sporting stylish yet practical silicone wedding </em>
</p><p>
  <em>rings. I ask if there is any pressure on Mr. Fox's shoulders to keep up the family reputation.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He smiles. "Certainly. But I hope to improve the family reputation, not just maintain it. That's</em>
</p><p>
  <em>why we have decided to open the bakery separately before dinner services- every dollar made</em>
</p><p>
  <em>from the bakery will be donated directly to the Trevor Project." Mr. Claremont-Diaz is looking</em>
</p><p>
  <em>at his husband with affection, and it warms this old reporter's heart. I ask him if he feels </em>
</p><p>
  <em>similar pressure as well. "Oh, no. I know five years ago I would have been running myself</em>
</p><p>
  <em>wild with worry, but now, I feel oddly calm. I have faith in Henry and in our partnership,</em>
</p><p>
  <em>in business and in marriage." And as I've seen it, their partnership is as strong as ever.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>I watch them in the kitchen, demonstrating a dish to be put on the new menu. Mr. Fox</em>
</p><p>
  <em>acts as his husband's sous-chef as they reminisce about the old days when that was</em>
</p><p>
  <em>their reality. "I hated him, you know," Mr. Claremont-Diaz says. "he was the worst</em>
</p><p>
  <em>cook I'd ever seen when he started, he used to drive me nuts." And has he improved</em>
</p><p>
  <em>since then? "With my help, he's managed to improve. I believe anyone can cook.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That being said, I think he should still stick to </em>
  <em>pastries." He laughs, but </em>
</p><p>
  <em>after tasting an item from the bakery, I have</em>
</p><p>
  <em>to wholeheartedly agree. The Royal seems in for a new step, and with</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mr. Fox and Mr. Claremont-Diaz at the helm, I believe that step is in the right direction.</em>
</p>
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